Once
by Rae Stone
Summary: "Seeing her apartment made him realize what was still missing.  Music.  Silence now surrounded her.  In silence, you couldn't be caught off guard. But in silence she wasn't Ziva David."


Disclaimer: Not mine.

Authors Note: Takes place some time during or after Ray. I had this written last year, but forgot about it until recently. Hope you enjoy.

Once

"Did you ever see Once?" Tony asked as he looked around Ziva's living room. It was the first time he had been at her new place since she had come back from Somalia. He was nervous. The last thing he wanted was to remind either of them of the last time he had been in one of her apartments.

She had been back with NCIS two years. Two years since their relationship had broken into so many pieces. More than she had been broken into. Over two years since she shoved her sig into his shoulder and leg. He wondered, as he moved around the sparsely decorated room, if things could ever go back to when things were going right.

But, if he was honest with himself, he knew that 'right' was a very, very long time ago. Back when he would come over at least once a week, watch movies, share stories, and listen to her play for him on her piano. Things had been wrong since Jeanne. Those were the best nights of his life. Before Jeanne, before the lies that would come to define their relationship.

He heard her groan from the bedroom where she was changing, getting ready to meet the others at a bar. His car was in the shop, so she had offered to drive. He wanted to say no, remembering how much worse her driving still was since she was sent back to Israel three years before. But then she had mentioned needing to come home and change, and he let his curiosity get the better of him.

"I believe you made me watch it."

He rolled his eyes, wondering about the lack of entertainment in Israel. "That was 'Once Upon a Time in Mexico'. They are VERY different."

"There are too many movies." She grumbled, joining him in the room, fixing her hair back into a braid.

He ignored her, "Once is an Irish film about a musician who is inspired by this chick, I can't remember where she's from. She's foreign," he added with a pointed stare. "Anyway, she helps him launch a music career, to do what he's always wanted to do. They kind of dig each other, some people think they even loved one another."

"And what happens?" She asked when he fell silent, watching her as he often did, as though he was trying to see her secrets, her soul, through her skin and eyes, instead of just asking.

"In the end? She gives it another try with her husband, he goes off to London to be a big star with the woman who crushed his heart."

An eyebrow rose, "That does not sound like a happy ending."

"Maybe not. But, people who feel that it is a love story like the ending, because he buys her a piano, something that she could not afford, but loved more than anything. Even though he knows that they can't be together, he wants to make her happy, any way he can."

"Because love is not always enough." She nodded, understanding, not looking at his face, at the expression he still wore. He was always looking far too closely at her. "What made to think of this particular movie?"

"The piano," he told her, stepping closer, feeling her unease through her control, "You used to have one. You don't anymore."

"It blew up." She met his eye, "I have not found one I liked to replace it."

"Is that all?"

She eyed him closely, "Should there be more to it?"

He shrugged, "There usually is. I liked hearing you play it. You said once that you used to play for your father..." he fell silent when she again met his eyes. And he knew. She was scared. Scared of not only how she had changed, but also of going back to how things were; scared of being reminded of her father in a way that made her hate him less than she felt she should. He knew she didn't want that reminder. She didn't want to let him close enough to hurt her again.

He looked away, changing tactics, "What's that song you used to play for me? The one you wrote?"

She looked taken aback, "How did you know I wrote that?"

"Your eyes told me you did. Every time you played it, your body language changed, you seemed happier. You loved playing."

"Tony," she warned, "I do not want to talk about it."

He nodded, knowing that he had pushed her far enough even by calling her out on the topic. "Ready?"

"Yes."

"Then lets go."

-NCIS-

There was a package on her desk, wrapped with a bow. Her forehead scrunched up. It wasn't her birthday. She looked around the bullpen, there was no one there. It was Friday night and everyone else had already gone home.

Not trusting that it wasn't a trick, she moved to it slowly, her caution growing when she recognized Tony's writing on the tag.

'Ziva, for your weekend entertainment. Tony.'

Curious, she unwrapped the paper. It was a movie. The movie Tony had talked about in her apartment the week before. Once. She chuckled, tossed it in her bag and went home.

She was surprised to find herself putting the movie on as soon as she got home. When she first arrived in America she didn't even own a television. Tony had made sure to change that. Now she had both a television, modest in comparison to both Tony and McGee's, and a larger movie collection than she ever imagined possessing. She set the empty case next to the others that her friends had given her. She kept them on display to remind her of them, of their love, of how much they were now a part of her — of how often they have kept her alive.

And here was another example to add to the others. Only Tony would notice that she hadn't replaced the instrument. Only Tony would know how much she had put of herself into playing it. Only he understood why she hadn't played it again.

But, watching the movie, seeing as the woman played and brought the man to life and made him live his dreams, she wondered why he had given the movie to her. Was it his way of telling her that he knew? Or that it was time to try again?

'_But, people who feel that it is a love story like the ending, because he buys her a piano, something that she could not afford, but loved more than anything. Even though he knows that they can't be together, he wants to make her happy, any way he can...'_

She shook the memory of his words aside and crawled into bed, ignoring what else he was trying to tell her.

-NCIS-

Ziva was woken the next morning by a banging on her apartment door. Cautiously, with gun in hand, she made her way to the door. She had already been up. She had already gone for a run. But then the week's events and her late night watching movies had caught up with her and she had gone back to bed. Now it was almost noon. And someone was at her door.

A delivery man?

She unlatched the door, hiding her gun from sight, and opened it. True enough, there was a parcel being delivered for her. Confusion filled her as she tucked her Sig in her pants and signed on the dotted line. Then she stepped back, allowing the men to bring in the oversized box.

Correction... to bring in the baby grand. It was a piano. And it was beautiful. It even had a bow.

"Who sent this?"

The delivery man just shrugged and handed her a large envelop. When she could no longer could hear them in her hall, she opened the package. There was sheet music, with a post-it.

'Ziva,

'I know you remember what I said. It doesn't just apply to movies. Remember that I will always have your back.

'This is the score from Sound of Music. I figured you'd like to start slow before you went back to making your own music.

'Don't forget to remember the good times. I'd like to hear you play again.

'Tony.

'P.S. don't be mad that I did this. I really can't take it back.'

-NCIS-

Tony was nervous. He hadn't heard from Ziva all weekend. And silence from her was worse than any punishment she could think to concoct. He knew that he had overstepped his bounds, buying her something like that. But he wasn't sorry he did it. She was slowly coming back to them; after all that time, she was becoming the Ziva he remembered, the Ziva he felt could do anything. The Ziva that tried to do everything.

But he hadn't noticed that she stopped wearing her knives. He made more of an attempt to notice when she started to again. He did notice, that after all this time, there was still something missing from her. Missing from the woman that had intrigued and intimidated him. That had brought him back to life time and time again.

Seeing her apartment made it click. Made him realize what was still missing. Music. She used to jog with it on, go to work listening to it, hum while doing paperwork. Silence now surrounded her. In silence, you couldn't be caught off guard.

In silence she wasn't Ziva David. And he wanted her back so much it hurt to think of life without her again. He couldn't do that. He loved her. And he knew that she loved him.

But he wasn't stupid, and he wasn't blind. He saw the obstacles that were between them, and he wasn't talking about Rule 12.

First there was Kate's death. How he had hated her for it. Then Roy. Then Jeanne. Then both the Micheals. Then Somalia. Now CI-Ray and so many words left unspoken but already said between them. So many walls that they had gone over only to be met with one that neither of them were ready to get past. Fear. Scars. The journey that they had already taken. Too much.

Ziva was right. Sometimes love just wasn't enough. But that didn't stop him from doing it. And that wouldn't stop him from making her happy, any way he could. Even if it meant that she would hate him for doing it. Even if it meant that she would leave him for someone else.

He would watch her back until the day it killed him. He would give her the piano that would bring smiles to her face again. The piano that would sing out with the hope and pain and vulnerability that she showed no wheres else in her life.

He only hoped that she would let him hear it.

The ding of the elevator pulled him out of his thoughts. His Ziva-sense told him that it was going to be her. That she was smiling was more of a surprise.

"Good weekend?" He asked when she sat down at her desk.

She eyed him playfully. He was acting dumb...playing dumb. "You could say that."

"Socialize?"

"Some," she admitted, allowing her computer to boot up, "But mostly I was remembering how to play the piano."

McGee looked up from his computer, "You got a new one?"

Her eyes found Tony. Still they were staying silent. Her head cocked, "Something like that. It has been awhile, I am rusty. But," she added, more because she felt she owed it to him than because she wanted to, "I am remembering how much I have missed it."

"I'm glad," McGee beamed, glad to see her smiling again.

"Me too," Tony added before going back to work.

She watched him as he went back to work, as though him giving her a piano was the most natural thing in the world and required nothing in return. Not even acknowledgment. She watched him and remembered the first time she saw him, remembered wondering how he was still alive, acting the way he did. Then she saw him, truly saw him, all the different pieces that made him Tony, made him Gibbs' second in command. And she understood. He had balance back then, back when she invited him over and knew that they would laugh more than anything else. He lost it along the way.

Sometimes she thought he was gaining it back. But it was a long road, and he had seen far too many bumps. How many had she put in his way? How much had she aged him? Hurt him? She looked back at her computer screen, knowing that she owed him more than that.

It surprised her that he hadn't asked more from her. Anything from her. Over a year had gone by before he mentioned missing how she used to be. Maybe because he noticed that she missed it too. He was more than she ever gave him credit for. But that was why she loved him. At least part of why she loved him. The rest of the reason was lost on her. And while that scared her, it was also what made her understand that her feelings for him were real. They lived beyond all reason. They lived because he did.

However, she knew that she was right: love alone wouldn't make things right between them. There was too much history, too many scars. But it was enough to know that he wanted to see her whole. He wanted her to smile again. It was enough to be loved by the man who would watch her back and she would always watch his.

At least for now. When it wasn't enough, when she was ready and whole and herself once more, she knew where he would be. And they would throw more obstacles in their path. More walls that they would climb. Together.

-NCIS-

Thank you for reading.

Thoughts?


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